That was the voice of her faithful servant, who had come at that hour to make her excuses to the priest — after he had sent for her — but the priest answered him in a thundering voice whose echoes rang through the space of the temple: No — she must come now, though her very soul were rising to her throat!
The newcomer slipped toward the door with bowed head, and the people held their breath, as if awed by this situation, new of its kind — or as if their fury against Lula had turned all at once into solicitude for her and love of her.
The minutes passed one upon another; the
fragrance of incense spread through the reaches of the temple; and at last the door opened, and in it appeared Lula with her slender figure, muffled in a dark weave so that only the upper part of her face could be seen, a witheredness showing in her heedless eyes. The chants began to rise in quiet and reverence, and the men began to pass in
ordered files between the two rows of women, two lines of cords stretched between the two parties. And the men set about choosing whichever women struck the place of desire in their souls...
One of them stopped before Lula, poised and reverent; and when her eyes and his met, he felt as though sparks were flying from hers, and sensed that she was commanding him to respect her will. But an active force from the depths of his soul — or, more truly, a palpable weakness in the depths of that soul — overcame all his noble powers, made him shut his eyes to those sparks and forget that will and not turn aside for it; and with the swiftness of lightning his arms stretched out to pull her violently toward him. But her slender hands were quicker to thrust him back, and to slap him; and her weary feet were quicker to flee from him.
But whither?? She stopped in one of the corners of the temple, panting under her burdens, the veil fallen away from her; and she appeared like a statue holding much of the meaning of the powers of rebellion and defiance!
The temple rang with voices; some of the people were scandalized, and others admired; and Lula listened to the words of condemnation raining down upon her without taking in any of them.
Let the transgressor be stoned. Let the infidel be imprisoned. Let her be a lesson to rebellious girls like her. Let her be torn to pieces at the feet of the angry gods.
Yet no hand reached out to do Lula harm — and had one reached out, Lula would have felt no pain, no humiliation, no wrong. For she was listening with the fullness of her spirit to a voice stronger than all those voices together, which had taken possession of her feeling, lit her brow with a holy light, and driven her, with a force she had no power to resist, to climb upon one of the statues, from which she looked out over the agitated throng; then she cried with the full force of her womanhood:
What have I done, O you people!!?
Is it because I condemn a vile custom you have borrowed from your fathers and your forefathers?
Is it because I scoff at a worship you perform by way of sin and debauchery?
Is it because I believe that the gods cannot be pleased with